


At dusk, I will think of you...

by PersephoneSiren



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Post-Season/Series 02, Post-Season/Series 03, Pre-Season/Series 03, Sort of AU (500) Days of Summer, but also...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:48:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29476488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PersephoneSiren/pseuds/PersephoneSiren
Summary: Story inspired by two scenes of the movie "(500) Days of Summer".Or what Steve thinks of Billy, before and after the battle of Starcourt...
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	At dusk, I will think of you...

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [At dusk, I will think of you...](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29476221) by [PersephoneSiren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PersephoneSiren/pseuds/PersephoneSiren). 



> Also, it has not been re-read or corrected by a third person. It's also a translation, and I'm sorry, but English is not my native language, so I apologize for the mistakes I could made. Thank you for your indulgence. If you have constructive remarks, they will be welcome.  
> It was inspired by two scenes from the film "(500) days of Summer" (2009) by Marc Webb, where the character of Tom speaks about Summer, in connection with their relationship: the beginning where everything is idyllic and the end, where qualities become defaults.  
> Hoping that this story will please you. And thank you for giving it a chance and/or having read it.

_**Spring 1985** _

If anyone had asked Steve Harrington what he thought of Billy Hargrove, the young man probably would have responded with unflattering words to the blonde guy. He would have expressed all the hatred and loathing he felt for the Californian, all in a tone filled of venom. Billy Hargrove’s portrayal would not have been flattering or glorious, on the contrary.  
And that’s exactly what happened one evening, after coming home from high school, after one another confrontation with the young man, during basketball practice.

Sure, since the November incident, things had improved for Max, Dustin, Lucas, Will and Mike. And for Steve too… Well, sort of. He and Billy hadn't fought any more, or not like what happened with the Byers. But provocations continued to occur. Nothing bad, just a few harsh words, slurs sent here and there to make fun of the other, or even a few nudges or even shoves. And most of the time, during and after basketball training.  
It was as if, the fact that those often took place at the end of the day, they became Billy's best way to end his day, by adding a thin layer of bitterness to Steve's ones. Sufficiently sour, for the brunette to think, on his way home: “What a shitty day!”

So it was that, one evening, Steve came home, went directly to his room, throwing his school bag in a corner with a brutal gesture, to end up throwing himself on his bed and screaming his anger, his face buried in his pillow. After emptying the air that were in his lungs through his cry, the young man took a deep breath and rolled his body to the side, in order to seek and find, with a hesitant hand, a notebook that he was hiding near his bed.

Ever since he was little, Steve had difficulty putting words on what he felt, expressing verbally what he thought or wanted to say. On his mother's advice, he began to write a diary, with his clumsy handwriting, sometimes illegible and full of misspellings, the feelings and other thoughts that were accumulating in his head, and that he couldn't tell.

And tonight, it was decided! In a few sentences, he would assassinate Billy Hargrove, pouring out all the anger he felt towards the blond, through the ink of his pen that would spread over the already darkened pages of his notebook.

> _“I hate Billy! I hate his stupid white teeth, which I would love to break to give him a crooked smile! I hate his fucking mullet, which makes him look like he's wearing a wet poodle on his head! I hate his fat thighs! And I hate his freckles, which make him look like a moron! I hate the way he sticks his tongue out all the time, like dogs, to lick his lips! And I hate his fucking hyena cackle! How can girls find that horrible sound sexy?! Hope this filthy asshole will be gone soon!”_

Steve sighed, finally slightly calmer after this short writing session, but couldn't help to touch, through his clothes, where Billy had pushed him in the locker room.

“Asshole…” He hissed between his lips.

* * *

_**Summer 1989** _

The sun seemed to want to hide in the ocean, diving into the water, to leave its place for the moon and the coming night. At least, that's what Billy Hargrove thought, looking out of his bedroom window.

It was hot, the day was ending and it was going to end probably as delicious as it started. The young man was only waiting for one thing: the return of Steve, who had promised to return with a pizza and a pack of beers, after finishing his job. And Billy knew that promise would flow on one of those evenings he loved so much. The kind of evenings where the two men would probably eat their dinner in front of a movie chosen randomly, stick to each other, in this couch a little too small, but perfect for cuddling, before finally going to bed to sleep, or for an extra cuddle.

But before all that, Billy had to think about taking his medication, which he might have to take for the rest of his life.  
That was one of the side effects that could happen when you had faced a monster from another dimension a few years ago, he told himself. That or the fact that this creature attacked him, took possession of his body, made him drink several sips of pool chemicals, made him do horrific acts against innocent people and ultimately attempted to kill him, by stabbing him with his tentacles, when Billy had wanted to face, protect a young girl he didn't even know.  
So, yes, swallowing a few pills of various shapes and colors, every evening, before dinner, was a very thin effort to make, to continue living. To continue living this life, which he never hoped to have one day. To continue to keep this bruised and broken body functioning, both outside and inside, for as long as possible, in order to enjoy every moment that was given to it. Or quite simply, to keep making his heart beat, so irregularly, every time he saw, smelled, touched, caressed or kissed the man he had loved passionately for several years.

Sitting on the bed, he grabbed his water bottle, along with a small plastic box that lay on his bedside table, containing the pills his doctor prescribed. He opened the receptacle, gulped its contents with some water. Water that was a little too warm for his liking, but that didn't prevent him from looking over the side of the bed where his boyfriend usually slept. The blond young man then noticed the diary sticking out of the badly closed drawer and could not suppress his urge to grab the object.

Billy knew that this notebook, like the old ones that were neatly stored in a cardboard box under the bed, was precious. He knew that this object, which did not have a lock, a thing unnecessary according to its owner, because he had nothing to hide from his boyfriend, nevertheless allowed his lover to ease his mind, by writing some of his thoughts that he must have had trouble formulating sometimes. But above all, he knew he shouldn't read its contents, not because it was a diary, but because he liked to leave this space of freedom to Steve, this secret garden that the brunet had maintained for many years.

Nonetheless, tonight, strangely, perhaps out of boredom or some wandering of his mind from the heat in the apartment making his head spin a little, Billy opened the notebook and flipped through a few pages.

He brushed the paper with his fingers, feeling the imperfections under his skin that his boyfriend's clumsy handwriting had created. Without really reading its content, his gaze felt on dates, words or fragments of sentences. The Californian liked more to observe Steve's handwriting, or the way the round curls of certain letters changed with his notes, or even, how the ink of his pen had leaked in certain places. Billy couldn't help but smile tenderly. That same smile he had when he looked at the pictures that adorned the fridge of their apartment, a sort of patchwork of photos of him and Steve taken on various occasions.

Turning a new page, Billy then noticed that this was the last note Steve had written. Dating back only a few days, its contents seemed to flash, like one of those neon lights that illuminate the streets and hypnotized the blond, who would have started to read if the front door had not opened and a voice had called him.

“Billy? Babe, I'm home!”

Quickly putting the notebook back in place, the blond young man left the room, happy to welcome his lover and help him get rid of the pizza and beers, which cluttered his hands.

If time had played in his favor, if Steve had arrived a few seconds later, Billy could have read a very similar message, but very different from the one the brunet had written a few years before. A declaration of love that showed how sometimes time can change things and people.

> _“I'm so in love with Billy… I guess no matter how many times I say or think it, it'll never be enough to express my feelings. I love his smile and the way his white teeth contrast with the pink of his lips or his tanned skin. I love his hair, or how his blonde curls seem to shine under the sun. I love his muscular thighs, which welcome me tenderly when we hug or when they squeeze me to hold me back and allow me to fuck him even deeper. I love his freckles that I can't help but kiss every time I look into his eyes. I love the way he licks his lips sometimes, after kissing me, as if to savor the taste I would have left... Or just to invite me to a sexier moment. I love the sound of his laugh. I love the way he looks when he’s sleeping, he seems so calm and peaceful. I love how he makes me feel. Like… Like anything’s possible, or like… I don’t know. Like life is worth it. And by his side, I know it's worth it.”_


End file.
